{"id":909,"date":"2019-10-28T22:33:45","date_gmt":"2019-10-28T22:33:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/?p=909"},"modified":"2019-10-28T22:45:44","modified_gmt":"2019-10-28T22:45:44","slug":"bigsbackyardultra","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/sport\/bigsbackyardultra\/","title":{"rendered":"Big’s Backyard Ultra: Just What I Needed"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Running Big\u2019s Backyard Ultra was a gamble for me: it\u2019s not exactly an easy race to return to as my first ultra in over a year since injury, undergoing eating disorder treatment, etc. I knew that. It would have probably been \u201cwiser\u201d to do some shorter trail races, and slowly build back up confidence in my body. But then again, taking the traditional route has never been my M.O.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So why run it? <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

People have asked when I hit \u201crock bottom\u201d and decided to seek intensive treatment for my eating disorder<\/a>. I definitely had a few moments, but a clear one of those was the heel stress fracture two weeks<\/a> before The Barkley Marathons this past year that kept me out of running that race. While I had already scheduled my admittance date for Opal Food and Body for the week after Barkley, that injury just drove the point home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I entered treatment, Opal was thankfully willing to work with me as an athlete and understand my running goals, but also asked me to clear my calendar of races. I obliged, but I asked to please let me hold onto the possibility of one: Bigs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This was in April. I had zero idea if I would be ready for Bigs, but I needed hope. I needed a goal. I needed a purpose. Honestly? I needed a carrot to get my shit together. Because I knew that I would never be able to run Bigs if I didn\u2019t start treating my body properly. (side note: yes, I\u2019m aware that I shouldn\u2019t<\/strong> need external motivation in order to recover and eat properly. But sometimes it can help in the beginning stages and I’m not ashamed of admitting that)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s the funny thing about how my eating disorder manifested that seems counterintuitive for people. I actually NEVER thought that being leaner would benefit performance in sport for me. In fact, I absolutely knew that the eating disorder was hindering my performance. I knew that gaining weight and eating plentifully would only help me, but I continually failed at my attempts to do it on my own without outside support. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And why did I fail? Hell, I wish I knew the answer. Honestly, it was probably a bit of everything. I imagine there was probably fearful of what the random masses would say if I showed up to a race in a visibly larger body. But it was primarily not being able to overcome the anxiety that came with having to eat the requisite amount to nourish my body properly.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

(Oh wait. You came here to read a race report and not a self-assessment of my eating disorder? My bad. Sorry, the two tend to impact each other. Back to the race)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

So…I was able to hang on to Bigs. Things seemed to be on track until I kicked a sauna bench in early July and broke a toe. While it didn\u2019t seem like a big deal at the time, apparently toes can be nasty little bastards, and I lost another month of running.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I started running in earnest only in late August\/early September. My longest run before Bigs was 18 miles. My highest weekly mileage was 45 miles and I was averaging 30-40mpw. I was the only person on that starting line who had never run a 100 miler. Frankly, on paper, I had zero business being there. But I was healthy. My body felt great. And the only thing that told me to not toe the line was my ego that knew that I probably couldn\u2019t compete for the win giving the state of my training.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But what if I toed the line knowing that I wasn\u2019t competing for the win? Was that even possible? Was that shameful? Was it possible for my ego to handle that?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wasn\u2019t sure, but I thought I\u2019d try. I like challenges. I like to compete. And yes, I like to win. And I\u2019ve never entered a race with any other goal other than to win it. Given that, I was kind of a loss as to how to approach this race. So a few days before the race, I texted my coach David Roche and asked \u201cHow will I know when to stop?\u201d He answered, \u201cwhen you get what you need from the experience<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bigs is, hands-down, the most sneakily diabolical race I can think of. Sneaky because, in theory, it SEEMS easy. 4.16667 miles in an hour is pretty slow for most runners. It\u2019s not a race like The Barkley Marathons, which seems impossible on its face. But because of that appearance of \u201ceasy,\u201d in my opinion, it\u2019s actually more of a mental and physical mindfuck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In theory, there are two ways in which you can reach your limits in Bigs that would cause you to stop: (1) your mental limit, and (2) your physical limit. I\u2019ve been pretty confident in my mental grit for many years \u2013 running loops around an obstacle course in 20 degree weather while getting shocked repeatedly by live electricity will do wonders for expanding that mental limit. My physical limit, however, was the big wildcard in this race. Unfortunately, I have a history of my body breaking, repeatedly. And that cycle has broken all shreds of the trust in my body that I once had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But while all this loomed in the back of my mind, my first and foremost goal was to be present and enjoy the race. And as we took off on our first loop around Laz and Sandra\u2019s (beautiful!) backyard, I recognized that wasn\u2019t going to be that hard to do: the trail was beautiful, and the company was stellar. Coupled with the joy of just being out in the arena, the hours flew by.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Guilluame probably thinking “why is this silly girl running right now?” PC: IRun4Ultra<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Night fell, and we switched to the road out-and-back. Admittedly, I dreaded this part: I do probably 1% of my training on road, and rarely ever wear road running shoes. To my surprise, I actually found myself enjoying the road more than the trail. Perhaps it was because I had more room to stride out and run at my own pace, perhaps it was throwing in headphones and dancing to the greatest hits of the Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears, or perhaps it was some fantastic conversations (especially a great loop with my SWAP teammates Don and Liz!), but I loved the road. And as the night wore on, I realized I was  getting nearer and nearer to a huge goal of mine for the race: complete my first 100 miler (and another unintended goal \u2013 I technically almost completed my first road marathon in the process!).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In chatting with folks, I learned I was the only runner who had never run a hundred miler (which does make me question why Laz let me in in the first place…). The accolades of my fellow runners were ridiculously impressive, and I was honored to run amongst them. But the coolest part is how excited they were for me when I finally hit that 100 mile mark on the last road loop. Maggie, Liz, and a few others ran ahead to even make a finishing tunnel for me in the middle of the race. In case you are wondering, THAT\u2019S the type of amazing folk Laz gets in his backyard. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Me telling Laz I hit my first 100 miler. His response: “now go run another 100” \ud83d\ude42 (PC: Jenn Coker)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

However, it wasn\u2019t all rainbows and unicorns. Started about mile 30, my feet started going to shit. It honestly surprised me because I\u2019ve never had foot care issues before \u2013 I\u2019m pretty meticulous about proper socks, lubrication, etc. But for whatever reason \u2013 perhaps it was the humidity, perhaps it was some rookie mistakes on my part, or perhaps it was the fact that my feet just haven\u2019t toughened up enough \u2013 they became a nightmare. We triaged the blisters, and they honestly weren\u2019t too painful, but the thing that proved to be my downfall was an odd heat rash that started enveloping my feet. The bottoms of my feet started to feel like I was running on hot pokers. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was manageable while we were on the roads because there was no twisting and turning of the foot, but as soon as we hit the trail for the second day, I recognized what kind of painful problem this was going to be. While not overly technical, it had been raining and the rocks  and roots  were slick: each slip of the foot sent lightning bolts through my macerated and throbbing feet. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Reality started to sink in that I was fighting a losing battle. The elation of hitting 100 miles started to fade and I was just kind of frustrated. Frustrated because everything else felt fantastic. My legs felt great \u2013 the muscles\/tendons, etc. I felt fresh. I had come into this race so fearful of niggles popping up that turned into nags that would turn into injuries, yet none of those materialized. In fact, the further we ran, the better my body felt. Except for the stupid skin on my feet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

(I\u2019m aware that I\u2019m rather embarrassed to say that I stopped a race partially because of heat rash and blisters\/maceration. That\u2019s a total noob type of thing, I know. But the bright side is that I know it\u2019s easily fixable.)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I made the decision to call it, I had Coach David\u2019s voice ringing in my ears: \u201cwhen you get what you need from the experience.\u201d At 112 miles, I was pretty much at peace that I had gotten what I needed: a restoration of faith in my body. <\/strong>A body that had repeatedly broken, and one that I wasn\u2019t confident could ever be trusted again. Over the course of those 112 miles, I found that trust again. So on the 28th<\/sup> hour, I walked out of the starting corral and positioned myself to high-five all the runners on the out and back. And with tears (mostly happy ones) in my eyes, I turned in my timing chip. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Granted, after I stopped, the doubts started to kick up in my mind. \u201cOnly 112 miles?\u201d I thought to myself, \u201ceveryone else is going SO much further.\u201d I started to feel sheepish. I started to feel like I shouldn\u2019t be proud of my accomplishment when everyone else was running pretty much double that.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Given the format of the race, Bigs is a race that\u2019s ripe for comparison and those doubts. But a text from the wonderful Devon Yanko snapped me back to reality: \u201cAmelia,\u201d she said, \u201cother people\u2019s accomplishments don\u2019t diminish your own.<\/strong>\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019s right. In fact, I\u2019d argue that the harder thing for me in this race is actually stopping when I\u2019m ahead. I\u2019m well-aware of my capability of running my body into the ground: that limit, I\u2019ve explored multiple times before. The limit I needed to explore in this race was my limit of knowing when enough is enough for that day. <\/strong>And to be able to walk away from a race healthy, happy, and confident is something I haven\u2019t done for a long time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

So that text was EXACTLY what I needed to get my head unstuck and focus on perhaps the most fulfilling part of the adventure: the next 33 hours of cheering on and supporting other runners, especially my incredible friend Maggie Guterl (who I have to thank, like so many others do, for being the one who encouraged me to run this race in the first place). In case you\u2019ve been living under a rock and haven\u2019t heard, she won like the fucking boss she is. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Have we talked about how amazing this woman is? And no, I’m not just talking about her sunglasses<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m aware I can\u2019t find the words to adequately express the magic that happens in the Cantrell backyard: the camaraderie, the stories, the testament to the human spirit. The fact that you have racers who run 100, 150, 200 miles and then, after stopping, jump into crew and help out without second thought. It\u2019s the most delightful non-race race I\u2019ve ever been a part of. And as a crew of us gathered on Tuesday morning to help clean up and break down everything in the Backyard, I came to realize I never wanted it to end. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Laz and Big holding court the next day after we cleaned everything up. Such a highlight.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

So thank you, Laz, for giving me a chance. And thank you Sandra for being the glue that clearly holds everything together (we love you!). And to good Mike and bad Mike and Bill and all the other Backyarders, you are the best. And CLEARLY to the best crew ever, Jenn Coker and Gina Fioroni. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I write these race reports for a number of reasons, but partially as a means for me to take stock of what worked and what didn\u2019t. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, my biggest learnings\/takeaways:<\/p>\n\n\n\n